


A Study In Second Chances

by KitanaRiddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Break Up, F/M, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitanaRiddle/pseuds/KitanaRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Greg and Mycroft had managed to date and breakup long before Greg was ever a DI and had ever met Sherlock Holmes. This is the story of how Greg and Mycroft got their second chance at love.</p><p>Spoilers for season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Nonlinear Narrative
> 
> Unbetaed and unbritpicked

**2011**

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded as he stormed up to the detective.

With a snort, the Detective Inspector replied, "Well, nice to see you too! I’m on holiday, would you believe?"

"No, I wouldn’t"

Rather than fight with the taller man, Greg took off his sunglasses and greeted the blogger instead, "Hullo John."

"Greg!" At least one person didn't look utterly pissed off to see him.

"I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?"

Sherlock gave a typical sneer, "I’m waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?"

"I’ve told you: I’m on holiday."

"You’re brown as a nut. You’re clearly just back from your ‘holidays’."

Greg had no idea how to act casual in the face of Holmes scrutiny, "Yeah, well I fancied another one."

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn’t it?"

"No, look..." Greg tried to end any talk of the others elder sibling.

"Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to ... to spy on me incognito. Is that why you’re calling yourself Greg?"

"That’s his name," John stated, giving his flatmate a surprised look.

A frown reached Sherlock's lips, "Is it?"

"Yes. If you’d ever bothered to find out. Look, I’m not your handler-" he paused as he grabbed his drink and thought of how to approach the topic of Mycroft and still avoid further conversation about him, "and I don’t just do what your brother tells me."

* * *

**2005  
**

The Detective Inspector had thought he'd gone barmy the first time Mycroft had walked in his office.  He'd answered his wife's phone for her the night before when she was in the loo getting ready for a ladies night out. Greg thought it was her ride calling her downstairs, but instead it was her lover who was unaware she was married. They'd fought most of the night and Greg was milking an extra-large coffee when a tall mall in a three piece suit waltzed into his office like he owned it.

"Listen mate, I don't know who you are but you can just barge into my office."

"Don't you, Detective Inspector?" It was the twisted, grimace-like smile that triggered Greg's memory.

"Mycroft Holmes," he gritted through his teeth, "What do you need." 

The tall man casually glanced around the room; Greg could tell he was _deducing_ it, "It seems my little brother has taken an interest in crime solving. It got him arrested last week. Apparently the Detective Inspector on scene was not pleased with his... Trespassing. I need someone who will allow him on the scenes."

"Sherlock? Your little _hellion_ of a brother, as you called him. Said he was born trouble and would always be trouble?" Greg scoffed, "I don't think so."

"I'm impressed, Detective Inspector, You remember quite a substantial amount-"

Mycroft was cut off by Greg, "I remember everything, Mycroft. Another reason why my answer is no."

The other man narrowed his eyes in annoyance, "Sherlock will continue to involve himself in crime scenes, I will continue to bail him out and eventually you _will_ work with him. Save the resources of time and money and just accept now."

When Greg refused to answer, knowing the younger man was probably correct, Mycroft turned to leave. 

As he closed the door, he called out, "The lover was not the first, nor the only. Have a nice day, Gregory."

"Fuck off!" Greg yelled despite the closed door. He then mumbled, "Stupid, bloody Mycroft and always getting the last bloody word." 

* * *

**1995**

Mycroft first saw Greg when the man went speeding by him as he chased down a suspect who had bolted partway through _casual_ questioning at the cafe she worked at. The running woman had pushed Mycroft in her hurry and it was from his slightly over-padded behind that he watched the young cop speed by. Mycroft had just finished his classes and was carefully and meticulously storing the lectures in his 'mind garden'. He walked slowly, waddling slightly from the weight of his books and the weight of his hips and stomach. 

"Need some help?" 

Mycroft looked up to see the cop standing in front of him. He could clearly see the grey streaks at the man's temples despite being only a few years older than Mycroft, as well as the man's slightly off centred teeth.

**26, cop, single, no pets, only child, right handed, prefers coffee to tea, ambitious**

"I'm alright, thank-you," he answered.

"She pushed you down pretty rough. I let the other officer take her in so I could check you were okay," the stranger gave another large smile.

With a furrow of his brow, Mycroft replied, "I'm fine."

The cop laughed and put his hand out, "Oh I _know_ you're fine. I'm Greg Lestrade."

"Are you flirting with me?" Mycroft couldn't help but ask, failing to keep the shock from his voice.

"Is it working?" Greg queried. 

"I'm not sure."

"Well how's about you let me by you a coffee while you decide."

The younger man blinked once and shifted his books in his arms, "Alright."

Greg let out one of his breathy laughs, "And about that name?"

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Pleasure," the cop purred as he grabbed the books from Mycroft's arms and carried them to the coffee shop.

* * *

**1997**  
  


"What the hell." Greg snarled, "An email? Really, Mycroft. You thought you'd tell me over an email that you were done with me?"

The politician looked up from his desk, "Gregory, this is hardly appropriate-"

"Oh! And an email was appropriate? More than two years and you end things like that?"

"I'm a busy man. I don't have time for _break ups_."

Rather than become even angrier, Greg's shoulder slumped, "Just, Myc, give me a reason. I don't mind that you've got a crazy work schedule. I'd take one night a week sleeping next to you than no nights. I... I love you."

"And that is exactly why," the other answered as he looked back down at his notes and resumed annotation, "Too much sentiment. Caring is not an advantage; please see yourself out."

Greg stood in front of the desk for ten minutes before sighing and pulling a small velvet box from his coat. He placed it on the desk before he spoke.

"If I don't ask, can we forget you deduced it? I'll leave it be. Never ask again."

This time, without even looking up, Mycroft replied, "It's entirely too late. You know I don't forget anything."

With a heavy exhale and shaky legs, Greg left the politicians office. Once the door clicked behind the cop, did Mycroft pick up the velvet box and look at the matching gold rings that rested inside of it. He opened his fireproof safe and placed the box beside his will, before resuming his work.

* * *

**2010**  
  


"You're certain Sherlock's brother won't be there?" Greg asked John while the doctor attempted to convince him to join their Christmas bash.

"God no, they'd kill each other. Why's that an issue?"

The DI gave a shrug, "Just don't like the bloke much."

If John had been his flatmate, he would've caught his friends lie; however, he was not the world's only consulting detective so he chuckled and clapped Greg on the shoulder, "Mycroft does have his moments. But you'll come right? Back up if Sherlock gets to...much like himself."

"Yeah alright." 

Greg was glad John bought his lie. He knew too well the reason that he didn't want to run into Mycroft would bring back nostalgic memories, and that was the last thing he needed after catching his wife in her most recent affair.  

Scotland Yard’s finest arrived to the party and watched as Molly Hooper arrived dressed to the nines. It was apparent to anyone with eyes that she was attempting to catch the attention of Sherlock and Greg hoped to distract her before the man made any vicious comments. 

"Molly? Want a drink?"

He heard John and Sherlock prattle on about the blog, while Molly turned her attention to Mrs. Hudson.

"How’s the hip?"

"Ooh, it’s atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"I’ve seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems," Greg cringed when he heard Molly's response.

"Oh, God. Sorry." She sounded flustered.

As Sherlock berated her for making jokes, the DI hurried over to bring her some wine.

"Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That’s first thing in the morning. Me and the wife – we’re back together. It’s all sorted," he grinned at her.

"No, she’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher." Sherlock called from his spot at the computer.

Greg wasn't sure what was most concerning: his lack of surprise at his wife's actions, his relief the Mycroft wasn't there to deduce the same or his disappointment that Mycroft wasn't there.

* * *

**2006**  
  


"Thank-you, Detective Inspector. I cannot repay the gratitude that I have." 

Greg looked up from his chair beside Sherlock's pale and unconscious body, "good thing I didn't do it for you then."

Had Mycroft not trained himself to conceal his responses, Greg would have seen the shock, "He's grown on you. You consider him as a friend."

"More like the child I never had. Doctors say he might've done permanent damage."

Surprisingly Mycroft sat in the chair beside him, "Had you not found him he'd be dead."

"Fuck, Myc, I know." Greg let out a quiet sob, "I'm giving him an ultimatum when he wakes up and I need you to back me up."

"If he ever uses again, no cases?" 

"Damn your mind reading." 

Greg smiled at Mycroft and the man smiled back. For a moment it was almost like they were happy and together again.

* * *

**1996**  
  


"Merry Christmas, Myc," Greg pressed a kiss to the shoulder of the man curled up beside him. 

"Christmas was three days ago."

"Yeah well this is our Christmas since someone got called into their _part_ _time_ job over Christmas. CIA was it?"

Mycroft rolled onto his side and glared at his partner, "Filing mishap, actually."

"Hmmm," Greg hummed, "come on, let's open presents."

"I've got the only priceless gift right here, I don't see why I should leave this cozy bed," Mycroft murmured as he laid kisses along Greg's neck.

With a growl, Greg rolled to his back and pulled the other man on top of him. 

They didn't end up opening present until after lunch and spent the day in each other's arms. By the time supper was done, the last of the presents were open and the fourth round of enthusiastic sex was completed, Mycroft was asleep on the couch. Greg couldn't help but smile. He thought to himself, (by this time next year, I'm going to ask that man to be mine forever.)

* * *

**2013**  
  


"Lestrade’s obviously not bringing a plus one, so he will fit at this table here," Sherlock pointed to a spot on Mary's seating chart.

"And will your brother be coming?" She inquired.

"Oh highly improbable. But if he does I want his spot to be right next to the dessert table."

"Will he be bringing a plus one?"

John chuckled from his chair while Sherlock made a sour face, "No, apparently he's not lonely. Yet Mummy has come up twice since he took them to Le Mis. Even she's worried about him."

Mary smiled at Sherlock, "'Even she?' Are you worried about him? Get him to come and we'll find him a nice cousin. Maybe the one that hates me?"

"No, no. Even if he wasn't gay, he'd never go for her."

"Why's that?" John asked

"He'd never go for someone with bad enough taste to dislike Mary."

The blonde woman knocked shoulders with him, "Oh Sherlock, you're such a gem."

John gave another even louder chuckle at that, "Sure he is."

* * *

**2009**  
  


"I went round Sherlock's flat. Landlord says he's kicked him out. Something about ears and Bengal tigers. He's not answering his phone either."

Greg could hear the clicking of a keyboard before Mycroft replied, "He's currently at Regent Park. No doubt speaking to his homeless network."

"Do you think he's lonely?"

"I'm sorry?"

It was the first time Greg's spoken beyond getting Sherlock's location, "Well he can't keep a flatmate and he's been spending more time with that network of his."

"He's a Holmes. He is accustomed to loneliness."

"Is that what you tell yourselves?" Greg grumbled.

"Ourselves? How did this become about me?"

"It's always been about you, Mycroft." The DI managed to have the last word as he hung up his cell phone and went to find Sherlock. 

* * *

**2011**  
  


Greg booked the first holiday the week after he signed the divorce papers. He spent the entire trip laying on the beach and drinking umbrella drinks. It would've been the most relaxing trip of his life, had Mycroft Holmes not been constantly occupying his thoughts. He found himself reminiscing about their first summer together and how self-conscious the younger man had been. He refused to remove his vest in public and he ended up with tan lines that Greg loved to trace with his tongue. Greg remembered how spectacular Mycroft's freckles became after even a few hours in the sun. He remembered ice cream kisses and beachfront cuddles. By the end of his trip, Greg realised that even after 11 years of marriage hadn't helped him get over his first real love. He spent the last day of his trip getting smashed on cheep beer to try and drown the realisation. But it was still there, along with a pounding headache, as he made his way through the airport the next day. 

He was waiting at the baggage claim at the airport when his phone rang.

"Good afternoon, Detective Inspector. Your luggage won't be arriving as it's on its way to Dartmoor. Gate 10-A has your ticket to there as well."

"What has your brother gotten into this time?" 

"A secret research facility and some demon dog. Activities full of _legwork_."

Greg chuckled and decided to press his luck, "Yeah there's only one type of physical exertion that you're really into."

Mycroft was silent on the other line for 20 seconds before he spoke, "Good day, Detective Inspector. Have a pleasant time in Dartmoor."

* * *

**1997**  
  


Mycroft knew what was coming. The small amount of money that was missing from Gregory's paycheck, the way he paid slightly more attention to jewelry commercials and then finally the indent of the box Gregory started to carry in his coat. At first Mycroft had been disappointed that he'd deduced it and it wouldn't be a surprise. But as his mind continued along thinking, the disappointment faded into relief. Had Gregory been able to surprise Mycroft and ask, the younger man knew he'd have said yes instantly with no thoughts to the future. Mycroft wasn't blind to his flaws like Gregory seemed to be. He knew that he was difficult, controlling and not nearly as affectionate as his partner. Eventually Gregory would realize this and Mycroft would not only have to face a broken heart but also the messy proceedings of separating. It was then that the politician decided it was best to break his heart on his own terms. He began to draft up an email.

* * *

**2013**

Sherlock glanced towards his Detective Inspector while he waited for Mycroft to answer the phone. Inspiration was instant as his brother answered with a breathy _yes, what Sherlock?_ It was then that Sherlock realized he needed to somehow get Mycroft to the reception so that he and Lestrade could meet on social terms rather than business.

“Why are you out of breath?”

“Filing.”

“Either I’ve caught you in a compromising position or you’ve been working out again. I favor the latter,” Sherlock deduced.

“What do you want?”

Despite Sherlock’s goading, Mycroft refused to attend the wedding. With the adrenaline rush provided by the attempted murder, it wasn’t until after he’d caught the criminal did he look at Lestrade and remember his plan. The DI had called Donavon in, refusing to leave John’s wedding even for an arrest. Who better to be with his brother than a man with unmovable loyalty, full of all the positive traits the Mycroft was missing and wouldn’t be chased away by Sherlock?

The consulting detective called his brother once more and played in the man’s biggest weakness, “Mycroft you’re right. It is the ending of an era. She’s pregnant. They won’t need me.”

“I warned you about getting involved,” his brother refused to sound moved.

Sherlock added hysterics to his voice, “Yes well, it’s a little _late_ now.”

“Would you like me to come fetch you? I can be there with in the hour.”

“I can’t just leave. I’ll play their wedding song, make a final vow and then yes, I’d like to leave.”

“Consider it done,” Mycroft promised.

The younger brother continued to flutter about, fulfilling his duties as best man.  He had just started his speech when he saw his brother standing in the back, leaning on his umbrella. Sherlock approached the newlyweds and apologized for his slip before sending them off to dance. He glanced around, noticing Mycroft had taken out his phone was glaring at it and that Greg was storming over towards him. Stunned by the sight, the consultant hoped to find a dance partner to observe more ore the interaction; however, by the time he finished exchanging looks with Mary’s bridesmaid, his brother and the DI had vanished. Annoyed by this, Sherlock grabbed his coat and left towards the jet.

* * *

**2012**

“Guilt. That’s all this is. You pushed us all into thinking that Sherlock was a fraud, you and Donovan.” Although Greg had forgiven both of them, he made sure not to let them forget, “You did this, and it killed him, and he’s staying dead. Do you honestly believe that if you have enough stupid theories, it’s gonna change what really happened?”

Greg began to walk away as the thoughts started to form.

Luckily Phil interrupted them, “I believe in Sherlock Holmes.”

With a turn, Greg grimaced, “Yeah, well it won’t bring him back.”

The pair watched the news reporters as they announced the clearing of Sherlock’s name, “well then. Absent friends. Sherlock.”

Phil raised his coffee, “Sherlock.”

“And may God rest his soul.”

Phil gave a nod and started to move in the opposite direction of the Scotland Yard.  As Greg walked to work, his thoughts from earlier began to reform. He wondered how much time Mycroft must have put into clearing his brother’s name. He worried that Mycroft blamed himself like John blamed him. Mostly, though, Greg thought about the comfort he wanted to offer the man. He wished they could mourn together.  Glancing up at a CCTV camera, Greg tipped his cup and entered into the building.

* * *

**2013**

“It’s always your stupid brother’s fault,” Gregory was lush as he guided Mycroft to his hotel room.

“Detective Inspector, I ask that you unhand my tie and allow me to see my brother.”

“Your tie? Don’t get me started on that. You’re wearing the same bloody tie as me. If that’s not a sign then I don’t know.”

Myroft found himself standing in the Detective Inspector’s hotel room as the other man sat on the bed and began to remove his dress shoes.

“Your brother said the sweetest things today, reminded me of how much love Holmeses are capable of. Broke my heart all over.”

“Why would it break your heart?” Mycroft asked despite the lump in his throat.

Finally getting off his shoes, Gregory gave a triumphant smile before working on his tie, “John brought out that love and humanity in him, but I wasn’t enough to bring it out in you. I tried Myc. I never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Seeing the man was close to asphyxiating himself with the tie, Mycroft knelt down in front of him and began to remove it instead, “You were more than enough, Gregory. It was me.”

“You?”

“In the two years we were together I never told you that I loved you once. Surely you could not have lived your life through with a man so cold,” Mycroft had removed the tie and he placed it on the bedside table.

Before he could rise, Gregory placed one hand on his shoulder and the other over his hand that was resting on the bed, “Myc, your eyes everytime you looked at me said that you loved me. I never once doubted your affections for me.”

Gregory leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the corner of Mycroft’s mouth, “Stay the night with me and we’ll get it sorted in the morning.”

Somehow, with no regards to the future, Mycroft agreed. He shed his suit, folding it before setting it on a chair, and crawled into Greg’s arms. The two held each other close, sharing kisses and secrets but nothing more. 

It was after the red florescent clock numbers had long past 2am that he spoke, “I never stopped being in love with you.”

“I know, Mycroft. Neither did I.”


End file.
